


Soco Amaretto Lime

by lc2l



Category: American Idol RPF, Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lc2l/pseuds/lc2l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The contest must have been organized by some out of touch PR person because no one who'd ever met Mark Zuckerburg would think 'dinner with the CEO of Facebook' was an acceptable prize for anything.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Soco Amaretto Lime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jerakeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerakeen/gifts).



> So this is a charity fic for [](http://jerakeen.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**jerakeen**](http://jerakeen.dreamwidth.org/) and it is about a million years late so I am really sorry about that.  
>  Thanks so much to [](http://freakykat.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**freakykat**](http://freakykat.dreamwidth.org/) for beta-ing it.  <3  
> The title is the name of a song by Brand New.

The contest must have been organized by some out of touch PR person because no one who'd ever met Mark Zuckerburg would think 'dinner with the CEO of Facebook' was an acceptable prize for anything.

Eduardo stared at the email and wondered how to phrase 'hell no' in such a way that he didn't earn the hatred of anyone who could hack into his Facebook account. His fake Facebook account. The Facebook account that he'd set up simply because some anonymous source (who had emailed him from her Facebook email address—thank you Katy O'Connell from Conway, Arkansas) had sent him some photos of some famous people and casually suggested that he post them up somewhere for all to see.

He hadn't even realized this 'get the most likes' contest had been happening and he _certainly_ hadn't expected to win. He'd gone for one of those 'like to see the pictures' pages that everyone hated and the photos weren't even that graphic and wasn't mainstream America supposed to be opposed to gay sex, anyway?

Eduardo hadn't even been able to get off to them because as soon as he opened the page he found his eyes flicking to the Facebook logo and he started thinking about other... things instead and—okay—so he got off but it wasn't to the idea of Kris Allen and Adam Lambert going at it like fucking rabbits every time the media's back was turned.

Five million 'like's in twenty four hours had propelled it to the most viewed page, put the pictures on every gossip blog on the internet had resulted in Eduardo's sock puppet Facebook account winning the worst prize imaginable for a contest he hadn't realized he'd entered.

He hit 'reply' and hesitated, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

—-

 _From: d.chester1636_ @ _hotmail.co.uk_  
 _To: e.finch_ @ _facebook.com_  
 _Subject: RE: Congratulations!_

 _Dear Ms. Finch,_

 _I apologize but I find I am incapable of accepting the invitation and must withdraw from the contest. Please transfer the prize to the second place—_

 _—-_

His inbox dinged with a new message.

—-

 _From: e.finch_ @ _facebook.com_  
 _To: d.chester1636_ @ _hotmail.co.uk_  
 _Subject: And another thing_

 _Hi Daniel,_

 _I just received word from Kris Allen and Adam Lambert that they would also like to attend your dinner with Mr Zuckerburg. I have taken the liberty of expanding the restaurant booking to four people._

 _Everyone is looking forward to meeting you!_

 _Em_   
_X_

 _—-_

Eduardo stared at it and silently upped his assessment of 'Em' from 'out of touch' to 'completely fucking delusional' because Mark doesn't look forward to meeting anyone and the very idea that Kris fucking Allen and Adam fucking Lambert want to do anything with Eduardo right now other than beat him to a very tiny pulp is wishful thinking of the highest order.

Kris was supposed to be straight. Adam was supposed to have a boyfriend. If it hadn't been for the realism of the photos and the fact that Katy O'Connell apparently couldn't make a fake Facebook account of her own, let alone use photoshop, Eduardo might have believed they were false.

As it was, he had just most likely ruined both their lives and he should probably just go into hiding until this all blew over or until he died of old age. Whichever came first.

—-

 _From: d.chester1636_ @ _hotmail.co.uk_  
 _To: e.finch_ @ _facebook.com_  
 _Subject: RE: Congratulations!_

 _Dear Ms Finch,_

 _I am unavailable on any date for such a dinner and therefore feel you should cancel the booking before—_

 _—-_

His inbox dinged again and he was starting to be drawn back towards the 'hell no' response just because it was quicker to type.

He opened the new email anyway.

—-

 _From: KrisAllen4real_ @ _gmail.com_  
 _To: d.chester1636_ @ _hotmail.co.uk_  
 _Subject: Dinner!_

 _Hey!_   
_Got your email off Katy (if you can't trust your ex-wife who you dumped to run off with a gay rock star, who can you trust, right? :) ) though Adam suggested it because he thought we might intimidate you (he thinks he is intimidating, it's so sad) what with the inviting ourselves to your dinner thing._

 _He made me promise to say we weren't going to lynch you so I promise we aren't going to lynch you :) Also the restaurant is fantastic and Facebook is paying and I'm excited to meet you!_

 _No lynching, promise! Please come!_

 _Kris._

 _—-_

Eduardo stared at it for a long time, then eventually returned to his original message and deleted everything.

So it was a stupid, reckless thing to do, but how many times was he going to get a chance to meet fucking Kris Allen and Adam Lambert.

And there was no way Mark would show up. No way.

—-

 _From: d.chester1636_ @ _hotmail.co.uk_  
 _To: e.finch_ @ _facebook.com_  
 _Subject: RE: Congratulations!_

 _Em,_

 _Looking forward to it._

 _-Dan_

*

Eduardo was five minutes early and he was regretting that even though what he should have been regretting was agreeing to go in the first place. He should also have been hightailing it out of there.

It was probably the exclamation marks. The exclamation marks and the smiley faces. Kris had used too many of them and they had melted Eduardo's brain until he was somehow fooled into thinking this was a good idea.

Adam and Kris would be late because they were megastars and they needed to sharpen their pitchforks. Mark wouldn't come because he would have code to write, or mountain dew to drink, or sleep to - Eduardo cut off that thought because it was so ridiculous he had to be going crazy.

"Good evening, sir," said a young woman with blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail. "Could I get the name on your reservation?"

Eduardo stared at her for a moment too long as he realized that he had no idea what name the table had been booked under and he was just standing here looking like a complete idiot. Someone brushed past him in a three piece suit and Eduardo felt very underdressed.

"I'm sorry," the waitress said. "We're unable to seat walk-ins, I suggest you find somewhere else—"

"Facebook," Eduardo blurted out, when what he meant to say was 'thank you for your time, I'll leave now,' "I'm with Facebook. The Facebook event."

"Oh," her face widened into a smile that conveyed just how much Facebook was paying the restaurant for the evening. "You must be Mr. Chester. It's wonderful to meet you." She held out a hand. Eduardo reflected that all the money in the world couldn't buy sincerity but took it anyway. "We've put you in the back room for privacy's sake," she said, leading him through the restaurant at top speed. A few people glanced his way, but quickly filed him under 'uninteresting.'

Eduardo eyed the professional faces of all the customers and wondered how many of them had been curious enough to check out his Facebook page and how many of them had dared to 'like' it.

"The menu is set, though of course if you have any requests don't hesitate to ask. Do you have any allergies, Mr. Chester?"

It took Eduardo a moment to remember that she was talking to him. "No. Your menu will be fine."

"Alright, sir. Now, you're a few minutes early. Facebook offices have already been in contact to say Mr. Zuckerburg will be arriving slightly late, but he is happy for you to start without him. Mr. Lambert will be arriving any minute now, I'm sure. Your table is just through there, can I get you a drink?"

"A glass of water is fine," Eduardo said, failing to keep up with half of what she was saying. Something about Adam and Mark? Maybe Kris had decided not to come, which was a shame because Eduardo had been clinging to the vague hope that Kris was too small to be part of any mob.

He stepped through into the backroom and Kris Allen—Kris _fucking_ Allen—looked up from where he was sitting at the table doing something very serious on his iPhone. He stood up straight away, kicking his hair back and smiling a bright smile.

He was wearing jeans and a faded T-shirt reading 'Don't Stop the Music'. Apparently being a multi-platinum selling recording artist put you above such petty things as dress codes. He held out a hand to Eduardo. "Kris Allen."

Eduardo stared at it and tried not to panic. "I know who you are."

Kris laughed. "Well, all I know is that you're not Adam or Mark Zuckerburg, so I'm going to say 'hello Mr. Chester?'"

"Call me Ed-" Eduardo started. "I mean, Daniel. Call me Daniel." He cursed the brief moment of forgetfulness but he was slightly overwhelmed by the fact that an American Idol was standing half a meter away, smiling at him. He finally realized that Kris's hand was still hovering and reached out to snatch at it, shaking it before Kris could pull it away. "And I thought I was underdressed," he said because apparently he had no brain-mouth filter when around famous people.

Kris laughed again, glancing down at his t-shirt and jeans. "I came straight from the studio, I hope you don't mind."

"I don't," Eduardo said, too quickly, and finally remembered to release Kris's hand. "I'm a little in awe, you may have noticed even though I voted for Adam during the actual competition—not that I didn't think you were good and I should just stop talking now."

Kris pulled out the chair next to his for Eduardo to sink into. His iPhone was face up on the table and Eduardo could see he was halfway through a game of angry birds. "It's fine," he said, all Southern charm and a sunny smile that didn't seem at all forced. "I would've voted for him too if I had a vote which I don't think -"

"I'm sorry," Eduardo blurted out like a complete idiot. "I didn't think the page would be that popular and the photos were in my inbox and Katy told me to do it." And he'd gone along with it for the same reason he never said 'you know, facemash is actually a terrible idea' or 'I should read this contract before I sign it.' He wasn't known for thinking ahead.

Kris shook his head casually. "No big deal," he said. "I've been promising her we'd come out for months now, apparently she just got tired of waiting. You're just the messenger. She said she picked a random name from the Facebook histories? I don't really know but it certainly beats being caught by one of the magazines, right? At least this way our relationship wasn't just being used to make more money for the man."

"Unless that man is Mark Zuckerberg," Eduardo pointed out.

Kris's iPhone buzzed on the table and he glanced down at it. "Adam's going to be a little late," he said. "They said Mark would be late too, do you ever feel like the only person who arrives on time?"

Eduardo wondered if he should mention that Mark wasn't coming, but then Kris might tell Adam not to bother and the whole thing would be off and Eduardo was feeling surprisingly calm, considering. "I was expecting to have to wait half an hour before anyone else arrived," he admitted. "I mean, rock stars and billionaires aren't known for sticking to timetables."

Kris nodded with a grin. "Well, obviously I'm ruining the reputation of all musicians here but if I'm honest I totally used this dinner as an excuse to get out of the studio early. I swear, this is the worst part of recording when everything is written and solid but no one's quite happy with the tiny details so you're just recording and re-recording and doing a thousand different versions of one line and we—the band and I—got so fed up over lunch that we changed all the lyrics and I spent the whole afternoon singing about my love for a really good slice of pie."

Eduardo very nearly snorted out the mouthful of water he'd just taken. "What did the label think of that?"

Kris grinned a trickster's grin. "I have your email," he said. "When they notice, I'll let you know. I'm sure it'll be nothing to the time we were on tour and I played a song we were working on that they'd been swearing blind would never make it onto the album only now that I'd played it, it had to."

*

Adam finally arrived during a story about the time Kris's friend Cale had put laxatives into Andrew's stage water bottle in retaliation for some prank Andrew had played on him.

The first thing Eduardo was reminded of when Adam swept into the backroom, shook Eduardo's hand, kissed Kris's cheek and asked why they weren't drinking yet was another meeting he'd had with Mark in a restaurant. For a moment, he thought about making his excuses and getting out. Kris could share the rest of his anecdotes with Adam, if Mark arrived he'd be in the company of people with nearly as much money as him and Eduardo could get the first flight back to Singapore.

"So," Adam said, turning to Eduardo with a bright smile. "Name a drink, any drink, let's go crazy."

His smile was enough to make Eduardo hesitate. It wasn't manipulative or putting on a show for the benefit of everyone around him. It wasn't a salesman's smile.

If anything, it seemed too genuine to be true, like Adam really was this crazy exuberant person who swept everyone else along behind him.

"Beer," Eduardo said, unable to come up with anything particularly crazy in the face of Adam's smile.

Adam raised his eyebrows and folded his arms. "I am not calling over the waitress and ordering beer," he said. "All our expenses are _paid. Paid,_ Daniel. We have a responsibility to everyone paying for their own meals tonight to get completely and utterly trashed on the finest alcohol this establishment provides."

Eduardo cast a desperate look anywhere other than at Adam and found Kris's answering grin. "Champagne," Kris said. "Let's start with champagne."

Adam waved the server over. "Champagne," he said. "Something expensive." Then he pulled out the chair on Kris's other side and dropped into it, beaming.

If Kris made Eduardo feel over dressed, Adam made him seem horribly shabby. His hair was slicked back, he was wearing a jacket that seemed to be half leather and half mesh with skintight black jeans and snakeskin boots. The amount of jewelery on his wrists and around his neck looked like it would be enough to plate the Eiffel tower.

Eduardo remembered—a moment too late—that Adam supposedly had a boyfriend. "Sorry," he said quickly, staring down at his plate. "For, you know. It was none of my business."

There was a moment of silence. When Eduardo looked up, Adam was watching him curiously and as soon as they made eye contact, he laughed. "Don't sweat it," he said happily. "This is the first time photos of me kissing a boy leaking onto the internet has _helped_ me win a competition." His attention was distracted by the woman returning with a bottle. "Champagne!"

Eduardo glanced sideways at Kris in the hope for any clue about how to proceed now it was clear that Adam was hyperactive, happy about something and possibly crazy.

Kris shrugged, but his smile said 'just go with it.'

Adam raised his champagne glass high. "To the best night of our lives!"

Eduardo picked up his own glass, and went with it.

*

There was champagne and then there were cocktails in all sorts of exciting colors and at no point was there food which possibly explained how Eduardo got so staggeringly drunk so very quickly and somehow ended up explaining a very garbled version of his life story without once mentioning the word 'Facebook'.

"And now my father won't even look at me," he finished, draining the last of his drink— _blue,_ he thinks, _something blue_ —for emphasis.

"Oh," Kris said, from where he was half draped over Adam. "That's sad!"

It was a small consolation that the Pocket Idol was even worse at holding his alcohol than Eduardo.

Adam nodded seriously and somehow Eduardo ended up being invited over for dinner, "Only my mom can't really cook so it'll just be something from the microwave but afterwards there can be movies and sofas and—oh no wait—Kris, is your mom in town?"

Kris perked up. "Yes!"

Adam tried to clap his hands together, but missed. "So Kris's mom can come too and she can cook because she cooks and there can be pie—do you like pie? Everyone likes pie, right?—and there can be movies and your dad will be so jealous of how much awesome family time you're getting. He will be like 'Daniel, I am so jealous of your awesome friends—'"

"Wardo," Eduardo corrected. "Call me Wardo."

"Warrrrr-dooooooo," said Kris happily, falling into Adam's lap.

*

"Wardo?"

Eduardo turned around in his chair and for a moment his vision was slightly too blurry to make out anything but a figure in a hoodie and shorts, clutching a laptop under one arm like a life raft. He squinted, and the face swam sort of into focus. "Mark? Mark! You came!"

Kris looked around from where he'd been absently nuzzling Adam's neck. "Mark," he cried happily. "Mark Zucker-bruka-ucka..."

Kris was _the_ American Idol but Mark didn't look away from Eduardo's face. "You never even knew how to work Facebook," he said.

In comparison to Mark, Kris looked like he'd _dressed up_ for the occasion and Mark was still staring like he'd shown up somewhere for ice cream and been given a punch in the face.

A waitress came up behind him with a tray of six shots. "Shots!" Adam called happily.

Mark dropped his laptop onto a side table and turned, methodically going down the line and downing all six shots before throwing himself into the last free chair.

Adam cheered.

*

It was lucky tours generated a whole heap of stories and equally lucky Kris and Adam had both been on a whole lot of them because Mark dropped onto the free chair, edging it as far from Eduardo and thus as close to Adam as possible, and proceeded to get steadily drunk on everything within reach.

Adam needled at him to find out if he'd looked at the pictures. Mark had turned faintly red and muttered that he had no interest in 'that kind of thing' though whether that kind of thing was gay kissing, celebrities or the lives of people who weren't Mark Zuckerberg was unclear.

*

"So," Kris said as Adam called for tequila. "How did you know Wardo's nickname?"

Mark looked across the table at Eduardo with something approaching panic. Eduardo shrugged because he had already given his side of the story and he couldn't imagine a version where Mark didn't come off as the asshole he was. "My name isn't actually Daniel Chester," he told Kris. "It's Eduardo Saverin as in co-founder of Facebook, used to own 30% of the company and was CFO then got kicked out and had to sue to get any shares at all." If Mark had been any closer, Eduardo would have kicked him. Possibly that was why Mark wasn't any closer.

"It wasn't like that," Mark said to Adam, who he had apparently taken a liking to. "Eduardo owned 30% because he put in all the money at the beginning and it was like... Thiel's shares had to come from somewhere and he asked who Eduardo was and I said he's CFO, and Thiel asked where Wardo was and I said New York and he asked what he'd done for the company and I said you'd put in all the money at the start and you'd been meeting with advertisers and you were my best friend, though I didn't tell Thiel that," he paused to examine his wine glass and when he looked back up he didn't even pretend to be talking to Adam. "When he asked where the money was now, I had to explain that it was in a bank account I couldn't access because you'd frozen it and we needed money and the shares were supposed to drop slowly but then Manningham..." He looked back at his glass. "You weren't even _there._ Facebook was there and Chris and Dustin were there and Sean was there but you owned thirty percent of the company and half the staff didn't know what you looked like."

Eduardo had forgotten that Mark got talkative when he was drunk. Kris had his head tilted as though he was trying to work them out which—good luck to him—Eduardo had been trying for years.

Then the waitress arrived with a tray of tequila shots and lime wedges and ignoring everything in favor of getting drunk seemed like the better option.

"This," Mark muttered, edging his chair almost into Adam's lap as he moved further from, Eduardo. "This is why Facebook has a no pseudonyms policy."

"If I thought there was the smallest chance of you coming," Eduardo said. "I wouldn't be here."

Mark stared darkly at his wedge of lime. "Never hire an assistant who can call your mother."

"Seconded," said Adam, reaching across Mark for a shot. "To assistants without mother-calling privileges!"

*

"I made a mistake," Mark said, staring into the bottom of his cocktail glass as though more cocktail might appear at any moment.

Eduardo nodded and waited for Mark to give one of the many things on his list of 'mistakes Mark made'.

"I introduced it to you as a business," Mark said, which... wasn't on the list. "I introduced it to you as a business, which was wrong because a business is about making money and Facebook was never about that. It had to make money eventually because we had to pay people and buy servers but it wasn't created to make us rich, money was just a bi-product. It was users, users were everything. People looking at it and thinking 'yeah, that's cool.'

"The first good program I wrote, I put online and let people download it for free." Mark swilled the empty glass. "Facebook should have been like that."

Adam leant over him and said—with equal seriousness—"We need martinis."

*

"See the thing is," Kris said, waving his menu for emphasis. "'I'm gay' seems like a good reason to end a marriage and maybe 'I'm kind of in love with that really awesome, very gay singer I shared a room with' isn't the best thing to say but we're still _friends_ and friends don't send friend's intimate photos to random strangers to post online."

Adam was lying on the floor—Eduardo's memories were somewhat hazy as to why—the dessert menu resting on his nose. "I said we shouldn't send them. I always knew Katy was a crafty minx," he sounded like he approved. "I don't see why she got _my_ jacket in the divorce though."

"Hmm," Kris said. "I liked that jacket."

Mark shifted his chair all of a sudden so he was right next to Eduardo, close enough that Eduardo could have leant sideways and rested his head on the shoulder of Mark's hoodie. "You could have had anything from my closet," he said. "When we split. I wouldn't have minded."

Eduardo should have remembered that Mark was a touchy-feely drunk. "We didn't actually divorce. You threw me out of our company, there's a difference."

Mark leant his head on Eduardo's shoulder. "I s'pose."

"Kris," Adam said. "Would you still love me if I had ice cream on my pizza?"

Kris rested his feet on Adam's stomach. "Wasn't there supposed to be a set menu?"

Mark looked up from Eduardo's shoulder. "They should bring us whatever," he said. "I'm paying them enough."

*

Ice cream and pizza did not go well together. Ice cream and pizza and caviar was even worse, but Adam persevered. "Jive never fed me anything this awesome," he said morosely, poking his pizza with the stick of his ice lolly. "Kris, did you get anything this awesome?"

Kris had just stared sadly at the waitress until she had agreed to get him chick fill'a and he was now tucking in with a big grin on his face. "I got a trophy," he said. "That was pretty awesome."

Mark had a plate of twizzlers which he was staring at with the awed expression of someone who had never gone to the nicest restaurant in LA and ordered twizzlers before. "I had business cards that said 'I'm CEO, bitch.'"

Kris nodded. "I needed some of them. 'I'm the American Idol, bitch.' I could have given one to Simon. I think seeing his face would have made my life complete."

"I still wish we'd had cameras in his apartment just for the moment when he saw the Facebook page," Adam said, his face wistful. "Hey, Wardo, do you have anything awesome?"

Eduardo stared at him for a moment then reached under his chair and pulled out the much distressed 'congratulations on your Facebook Page' certificate made out to Daniel Chester. "I totally won a competition I didn't know I'd entered with gay porn."

"Yay," said Kris, and leaned over to steal Adam's pizza.

*

They were politely kicked out two hours after the restaurant was supposed to close with the news that their bill would be sent to Facebook headquarters. As the only one who could stand up, Adam was in charge of getting them home but at some point he seemed to forget that they all lived in different places and just bundled the whole party into the back seat of a taxi.

"I was going to tell you," Mark said, from where he was sitting half in Eduardo's lap. "But I was working and you weren't there and I thought maybe you'd read the contracts and you knew and I took your name off the masthead which should have been a pretty big clue except you never actually go on Facebook so it didn't work."

"Katy," Kris said into his phone at the other side of the taxi. "You know I love you and su casa is my casa and my money is your money and my gay porn is your gay porn but it is not the world's gay porn, okay?" A pause. "Mark Zuckerberg is less cute than in his Facebook profile picture and Daniel Chester is actually Eduardo Saverin who—oh, you knew that. Yes—yes, he's totally hotter than his profile picture. I think we're going back to Adam's. Sure, I'll send you pictures if Eduardo and Mark start making out."

Mark turned his head to look at Eduardo with his big eyes. "Now I feel pressured," he said.

"I'm going to throw up," Eduardo said.

*

The taxi driver was very understanding about the carpet—particularly after he saw the wad of cash Mark pushed into his hands as payment.

Adam was far less understanding about the shoes.

*

Adam said something about going back to his for coffee but none of them were sober enough to work the coffee machine so they just ended up sprawled on his monster of a couch, Kris in Adam's lap and Eduardo somehow in Mark's, talking about shitty contracts and crazy workmates.

"We once got kicked out of a gay bar," Adam said. "Because Brad decided in spite of the hosts of free and single men around, he absolutely had to get into the pants of the straight bartender."

"Sean got kicked out of a bar for picking a fight with a security guard twice his size," Mark said. "He turned around, bought the bar, then dived right back in there."

"We should set them up some time."

*

"Sean understood," Mark said softly. Kris had gone to the toilet and Adam was snoring lightly on the far cushions. Eduardo had been lying against Mark for far too long to pretend they were still mortal enemies and was thinking about getting a drink of water then finding somewhere soft to crash. "About Facebook. He understood that it wasn't about the money."

"I never thought it was all about the money," Eduardo said. It had never been that, it had been Mark's way of taking people—horrible, complicated people—and turning them into a list of easily memorable facts and figures. Taking life, and making it simple.

Mark's fingers dug into his arm. "It wasn't _at all_ about the money," he said. "Not at all. You have to understand that because you never did before."

"Isn't it a bit late for that now?" Eduardo asked.

Mark was silent for so long, Eduardo had to prop himself on one arm and turn to check he hadn't fallen asleep. But no, Mark's eyes were open and he reached out with one hand to touch Eduardo's cheek, his face twisted as though he'd come across a string of code that he couldn't quite figure out. "Is it?"

*

Kris returned with four big bottles of water, shook Adam's shoulder to wake him up and practically forced the liquid down his throat. "There are spare rooms," he said to the two of them. "Upstairs, any of the doors to the left of the stairway. Sleep wherever." Adam moaned copiously, but let Kris drape one arm across his shoulders and drag him up the stairs.

"I should call Emily," Mark said, looking away from Eduardo and reaching into his pockets for his phone. "And my mom, in case Emily got there first, and Dustin because he wanted to know how this went and I should check the site before bed just in case anything's happened because no one's called but they might just have been distracted and—"

Eduardo kissed him. Or, he tried, but he went it at the wrong angle and their noses bashed together followed by their foreheads and he managed to catch the barest flash of Mark's lips on his before he was sliding onto the floor. Just enough to notice that Mark's mouth still tasted faintly of lime and tequila.

"Or," Eduardo said from the floor. "We could find a spare bedroom."

He turned his head to see Mark sitting on the sofa, frozen, his mouth still slightly open and for a long moment he seemed to have forgotten how to breath.

Then his face relaxed into an almost smile. "Or we could do that," he said. "Yeah." He leant on his stomach off the edge of the sofa, Eduardo tilted his head back and the second kiss was just about perfect.

*

 _From: Krisallen4real_ @ _gmail.com_  
 _To: Simon_ @ _Cowellmusic.com_  
 _CC: Adamlambert_ @ _adamofficial.com, d.chester1636_ @ _hotmail.co.uk, markzuckerberg_ @ _facebook.com_  
 _Subject: (no subject)_

 _http:_ // _www.facebook.com_ / _Im_the_american_idol_bitch_  



End file.
